


put another x on the calendar

by strangelysweet



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), But mostly fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Smoking, akechi goro thinks about death, not beta-read it’s 3am and i am sick :(
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:47:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26435146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangelysweet/pseuds/strangelysweet
Summary: He was counting on dying before he turned eighteen. His calendar had a small, red circle on the day of his eighteenth birthday, and the rest were ripped out, shoved in the trash and burned by cigarette butts. Goro still smokes. Old habits die hard.——————Goro thinks about life, death, and how warm Akira’s hand feels in his.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 2
Kudos: 63





	put another x on the calendar

An ironed shirt hangs from Goro’s wardrobe door on the dry-cleaner’s hanger. It’s pale, glowing in the dark of his room like a ghost. If he stares at it long enough, the blood will start to seep into the breast pocket, marking where he was shot when he was seventeen. Now, he’s twenty-two, living in an apartment on the other side of town from where he used to live. 

He was counting on dying before he turned eighteen. His calendar had a small, red circle on the day of his eighteenth birthday, and the rest were ripped out, shoved in the trash and burned by cigarette butts. Goro still smokes. Old habits die hard.

The bed shifts next to him, and the mattress dips. A hand timidly rests on his chest, warm and comfortable on his sternum. Goro tears his eyes away from the freshly-ironed dress shirt and brushes the dark curls away from Akira’s face. 

He’s not asleep. His eyes watch Goro in the gloom, his pupils dark enough to swallow the shadows around them. Akira doesn’t say anything. His fingernails lightly trace circles onto Goro’s chest, rising and falling along with his breath. 

“You should sleep,” Goro croaks, his voice unused to being disturbed this late at night.

Akira blinks like a cat. “So should you.” 

He turns, pressing his back against Goro’s stomach and pulling the sheets up to his shoulders. Goro places an arm over his side, then glances one more time at his shirt. It hangs harmlessly from the door of his wardrobe, white as snow. 

He was meant to die at eighteen, according to a higher power, but he never really liked being told what to do. Akira sighs, and Goro closes his eyes, bringing the tip of his nose to the nape of Akira’s neck. He is warm, alive, and delicate like this. The wind rushes outside the window, the shutters shivering quietly in the draft. The moon crawls back into the clouds, leaving the dress shirt in shadow. 

**Author's Note:**

> this is short :(( sorry :((  
> i’m like dying tho so cut me some slack


End file.
